On that Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, the one where you wouldn’t let my hand go, we planned what we would do to your hospital room. The wall was big enough for a projector and you laughed when I told you we’d need cosy blankets and we would need to rip the sink out.

We spoke about which spice girl you’d be, random like everything I say is, you were happy to be scary spice, Russ baby spice and I was ready to fight you to be scary spice too. 

I shown you an updated photo of your great grandbaby, baby H. You said “He looks alright” whilst nodding at me. 

You searched the room looking for Russ because he was one of your favourite phone fixers, you found him hilarious especially when you would stick up for him when he was being annoying although he still doesn’t know where your shovel is. He was there too, with me, mum, Uncle Sean, Ronan and Paul. 

You knew I had an early bedtime and guessed that it was late, you lifted my hand and said “Are you bored?” as to say go home and go to bed. Hours past my bedtime or not, you were worth feeling tired for. 

You gave in and let me stroke your head whilst everyone went outside to smoke. I told you to get some rest and that it was okay for you to have a sleep. You were stubborn as always, you closed your eyes for a few minutes at a time and then woke up to look around the room and squeeze my hand a little bit more.

Somehow we got onto the topic of beaches in Ireland, a place I am yet to visit, but I need to. I wish you could have taken me, to meet the family who I would be ridiculously awkward around (typical me), to show me where you grew up and to show me your favourite beaches. I asked you “Which beach is your favourite?” You replied “All of them”. Very helpful Grandad, very helpful. I then said “When you’re better, we will go to all of them”.

Thinking of you always xx